Garden Variety Tartare

I love a beet tartare, for the obvious pun of course, and because I have a certain penchant for beets in all forms. The closest a beet can come to emulating beef, however, is that one letter difference in name. For that, we need to call in the tomatoes.

Tartare’d Up

Tomato tartare is a perennial favorite for highlighting peak summer produce in its own rights. Juicy heirlooms bursting from their skins, meaty and umami, have never been shy about stealing the show. Taken a step further, they’ve been used to create remarkably successful facsimiles for tuna, often infused with sake, miso, and nori, transformed into convincingly oceanic sashimi and sushi. Even I started getting sidetracked by luminous tuna towers with layers of buttery avocado, but there’s something different I was after. What I haven’t seen, amidst all that tomato ephemera, is a tartare where they’re treated like proper raw beef.

Yes, We Can

Turn up your nose at canned tomatoes if you’d like, but they’re exactly the shortcut we need here. Quality counts, especially with so few ingredients, so don’t skimp on the bargain brand and expect a gourmet experience. Proper peeled, whole San Marzano tomatoes are ripe with natural savory flavor, never mealy, and downright buttery on the tongue. Slowly roasting them further concentrates their flavor and removes any watery excess that might shatter the illusion. Then, it’s as simple as folding in the traditional accoutrements of shallots, capers, and Dijon mustard, though a dab of sharp horseradish would be most welcome, too.

Raise a Toast to Tomatoes

Make it fancy by using a ring mold, or cookie or biscuit cutter, to make a perfect round on the plate, or pile it just as elegantly into a dish. What really seals the deal, though it’s entirely aesthetic, is the peeled yellow cherry tomato, looking for all the world like a gleaming egg yolk sitting delicately on top. Who thought tartare could be totally made from tomatoes, while still carrying the same beefy swagger, rich decadence, and undeniable air of a special occasion? You will, the moment you dip in your toast.

Continue reading “Garden Variety Tartare”

Playing Favarites

Why would a dip called “fava” not be made from fava beans? Language is a funny thing, especially when trying to transpose a different one with your own. Quite simply, the Greek word fava refers to what we know as yellow split peas in English. If you wanted the broad, flat legumes instead, those would be koukia; another beloved staple across the Greek islands.

Peas and Thank You

After my initial confusion, the attraction was immediate. Yellow split peas have long been a favorite for cozy soups and stews, and I’m certainly no stranger to creamy bean dips the world over. Continuing life without a suitable recipe under my belt was unthinkable.

Certified Inauthentic

Don’t call the authenticity police on me. I’m well aware that this is far from a “legitimate” fava dip, as the genuine legumes are highly regulated to maintain their distinctive terroir. As a Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) food, only yellow split peas that are grow in Santorini can legally be labeled as such. I’ve heard tales that Santorini fava are sweeter and have a smoother texture than other split peas thanks to the mineral-rich volcanic soil of the island, though I’m not fortunate enough to personally confirm nor deny such a statement. I can promise you, however, than regular old, unprestigious split peas make a damn fine dip. You could really rock the boat and use green split peas, too. Just don’t blame me if officials find out and you’re banned from entering Greece at a later date.

Split Decision

Maybe the golden color is playing tricks on my mind, but I swear each velvety dollop, dip, and spoonful has an almost buttery finish. Topping with capers and diced red onion is essential to create the perfect bite, lending a briny, salt, and sharp highlight to what might otherwise fall a little flat. Wrapped in soft, warm pita bread or scooped up with crisp veggies, even this large batch will go fast. It could definitely give the average hummus a run for its money.

Continue reading “Playing Favarites”

Stick To It

As much as I love edamame, I’m loathe to order them at a restaurant. They have to be something really special, perhaps charred with a smoky kiss from the wok, anointed with enough garlic to ruin any date, to merit real consideration. The fact of the matter is that in most cases, they’re merely the same green pods anyone could grab from the freezer, barely thawed enough to melt the ice crystals, and seasoned either with too much or too little salt; there’s never any middle ground.

Edamame, though admittedly perfect beer snacks as is, deserve so much more care. The bar is so low that the bare minimum of creativity hooks me like a hapless, hungry fish. “Edamame Sticks” did the trick, in just that one line. It was printed on a menu online with no further description, and no means of ordering, but when has that ever stopped me before?

Wrapped up in a thin sheath of wheat-based egg roll skin, chopped edamame are granted the thoughtful application of spices and aromatics that quick serves can never afford. Far from groundbreaking, the complement of garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and sesame oil are simply playing the hits that the crowd most wants to hear. Once fried, bubbling surface of the wrappers bronzed and resoundingly crisp, no one could deny these beans.

The only problem with edamame is when they’re served as a placeholder, something to keep your hands busy while you wait for anything better. Given even a modest intervention, sealed, spiced, and sent through hot oil, they snap out of their stupor. Apparently this is still too much to ask of restaurants sending out plain pods at exorbitant prices, but at least we have all the tools at our disposal to do better at home.

Continue reading “Stick To It”

Trash Talk

Sometimes you just feel like hot garbage. Other times, you feel like eating hot garbage.

Wait, stay with me here!

Good Garbage

Though I’ve long been an outspoken proponent of eating trash, salvaging scraps and otherwise wasted food, I’m talking about something else entirely here. “Garbage” is a term used more liberally in this case, as a flippant descriptor of such an unapologetically messy, overloaded pile of fried potatoes. Not every meal needs to be gorgeous to have instant appeal. It’s perfect for when comfort food cravings become increasingly urgent, overriding any concerns about sticky fingers or hot sauce stains.

My hot garbage fries were inspired by the silly little plastic trash can vessel, to be perfectly honest, but probably work even better on a plate. Every crispy plank of fluffy fried potato should be saturated with the mess on top; a creamy, spicy sauce, meatless steak, crunchy onions, and sliced jalapeños for a final fiery bite. The combination is so simple, so obvious, that it feels redundant to write out a full recipe… And yet, it does serve as a helpful reminder that yes, it is precisely that simple and obvious.

Make Your Own Mess

Use this blueprint to build your own French fry dumpster fire upon. A few quick and easy swaps include:

  • Vegan Steak: As a luxury item, this isn’t one I often have on hand either. Any beef-like plant-based protein works beautifully (or sloppily?) here, such as crumbled veggie burgers, chopped seitan, meatless grounds, or even old fashioned TVP chunks.
  • Yellow Onion: Some people don’t appreciate the raw edge of an uncooked onion, and while they’re wrong, that’s okay. Use sliced scallions or chives for the same allium essence, minus the harsh sinus stinging.
  • Cilantro: Similarly, some poor souls process the flavor of cilantro as being akin to soap. My condolences. Either omit it or try using fresh basil for a flavorful change of pace.
  • Jalapeños: If you want to really pump up the heat, opt for peppers that fall high on the Scoville scale, such as serranos, habaneros, or scotch bonnets. Proceed with caution!

Trash is Cash

Next time you’re having a trashy day, don’t fight it. Lean into the hot mess with an equally chaotic, disorderly, and satisfyingly sloppy pile of hot garbage fries. If it’s so bad that you need a good cry, you can always blame the hot peppers, too.

Continue reading “Trash Talk”

Spring For Spices

You’d think that with the word “spring” right in the name, spring rolls would be seasonal, yet we don’t even have a consensus on whether they should be fresh or fried, let alone what goes inside. Morphing and evolving over time through the hands of countless cooks, their resistance to definition is a testament to their versatility. With such effortless adaptability, who says we can’t mix things up and throw some potato in there? And what if it happens to be seasoned like a samosa? The Indian pastry itself isn’t all that different when you think about it.

Springing Up Everywhere

The term “spring roll” likely originates from the traditional Chinese practice of making these rolls during the spring festival, AKA Lunar New Year, as a celebratory snack. Simply by virtue of using fresh vegetables, any vegetables at all, they represent the idea of a fresh, new start. Seasonal ingredients typically harvested in the spring may or may not apply.

Indo-Chinese Fusion

Strip away the deep fried dough of conventional potato samosa to bring that highly spiced and aromatic filling to the fore. Encased in translucent rice paper, unburdened by heavy pastry and excess oil, it’s a lighter bite that really could put a spring in your step. It’s not the crispy crunch you might expect, but instead a soft, slightly chewy wrapping that lets the aromatic spices shine.

Let’s Wrap This Up

Besides the obvious benefits for anyone with a fear of frying, using rice paper makes these rolls far quicker and easier to assemble than conventional samosas. Plus, they’re automatically gluten-free for a more inclusive savory treat. As a packable lunch option or picnic party starter, you can’t beat that convenience. Factor in the cool, refreshing, and invigorating tamarind-mint chutney for dipping, and you’ve got a crowd-pleasing hit that’s as satisfying as it is boldly flavorful.

At its core, a spring roll is anything you want it to be, wrapped up in a cloak of gossamer rice paper. Despite the seasonal implications of such a name, they’re truly timeless. Unbound by traditional implications, the modern spring roll is a reflection of global inspiration. Golden spiced samosa filling is only a small taste of what’s possible when you start rolling.

Continue reading “Spring For Spices”